


The Natural Progression of Things (1/1)

by earlgreytea68



Series: Chaosverse [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-28
Updated: 2008-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How a Time Lord embarks on a sexual relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Natural Progression of Things (1/1)

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://chicklet73.livejournal.com/profile)[**chicklet73**](http://chicklet73.livejournal.com/) , who beta'd this for me beautifully and is hopefully jetting her way to David Tennant right now. The reason c73 pinch-hit is because this was written as a surprise for my usual beta, [](http://jlrpuck.livejournal.com/profile)[**jlrpuck**](http://jlrpuck.livejournal.com/) , who long, long, long ago requested the story of the first time the Doctor and Rose had sex in the Chaosverse. Here, finally, is that story. jlrpuck is coming back from a fantastic vacation today, and I hope this little gift helps to ease her re-entry.

There was no “natural progression” of a relationship for a Time Lord. There really weren’t things like “relationships” for Time Lords. So, having kissed Rose soundly in several places, both appropriate and inappropriate, the Doctor found himself stalled on how exactly to get to the next step. Not that he did silly things like keep track of “bases” or anything like that, how thoroughly human…No, no. But he did spend some time wondering…Well, wondering if Rose even _wanted_ things to progress. The idea of…He supposed the scientific term was the idea of “having sex”—it was an unusual one for a Time Lord to be entertaining. It wasn’t precisely that Time Lords didn’t have sex, just that…Okay, Time Lords didn’t normally have sex. But then, Time Lords didn’t normally do _anything_ fun, and he’d had sex before, in the course of his major rebellion against Time-Lord-liness, and he’d enjoyed it, oh, yes, he’d just never thought about it with such all-consuming single-mindedness until he’d taken to snogging Rose. And Rose didn’t seem to be nearly as distracted. Rose went about life on the TARDIS the way she always had. It was bloody _infuriating_.

“Doctor,” she said, one normal day, while he was in the library trying to figure out why they’d been sentenced to death on the last planet they’d visited.

“Mmm,” he responded, not looking up from the book.

“Do Time Lords have sex?”

The Doctor dropped the book, loudly and inelegantly, directly on his toe, which made him swear and hop about on one foot. Rose stood, casually, in front of him, looking disinterested in the entire tableau.

“Do you mean…?” asked the Doctor, recovering and trying to match Rose’s calmness. “Do you mean…? What do you mean?”

“Like, if I took my shirt off, what would happen?”

“You’d…be cold,” he stammered.

Rose sighed. “Fine. It’s fine if you don’t do it, but you could just tell me, yeah? You could, like, be an _adult_ about it.” Rose turned, heading out of the library, and called back, “And we need to stop at the next planet and get me some batteries.”

“Batteries?” mumbled the Doctor. “For what?”

********

“Time Lords do have sex,” said the Doctor, over the breakfast table one morning days later.

Rose looked at him in surprise.

“I mean, maybe not really. To be honest, I never really asked. But I have sex. And I suppose that’s what the real question was, right? I mean, the Time Lord in question who should be having sex is…me. Right?”

Rose continued to just look at him. “Who do you have sex with?”

“What?”

Rose was eating a muffin, dripping with jam, and she licked some casually off her wrist as it leaked there. “Who do you have sex with? Because you haven’t had sex with me. You know what sex is, right?”

The Doctor frowned. “Yes, I know what sex is.”

“Just checking.” Rose munched on her muffin. “So who have you had sex with?”

“I don’t know…people…years ago.”

“Humans?”

“Yes.”

“More than one.”

“Is this usual? This…interrogation? It’s like a bloody job interview.”

Rose lifted her eyebrows. “Have you ever been on a job interview?”

“No,” he responded, belligerently. “But I’ve seen one on television.”

Rose spread some jam on her muffin. “Well,” she commented, “these questions are important. I don’t want to have sex with you if you’re going to be rubbish at it.”

The Doctor gaped at her.

She looked at him and burst out laughing. “It’s a _joke_ , Doctor.”

“It’s not supposed to be funny,” he sulked.

Rose, still chuckling, took another bite of her muffin.

The Doctor watched her for a moment. “So d’you want to have sex then?”

Rose choked a bit. “What? Now?”

“Good a time as any, isn’t it?”

Rose scowled. “You know,” she said, “it would be nice if things happened a bit more… _naturally_.”

“Rose. Nothing about this is ‘natural’ for a Time Lord.”

Rose looked at him for a moment, then stood up.

“Oh,” he said. “Are we—“

“No,” she interrupted him, flatly, before stalking off.

********

“Maybe you could tell me what you mean by ‘natural’,” said the Doctor, apropos of really nothing but his own racing thoughts.

They were sitting in a prison cell—a typical place for them, really—waiting to be heard on their latest offenses. They were in no great danger, just rather bored, and Rose was sitting on the floor by the door, back against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest and arms draped around them. She looked at him, where he was sprawled on his back on the room’s one bench.

“What?” she said.

“When we were talking about having sex.”

“That? That was days ago.”

“I know. What did you mean by ‘natural’?”

“I don’t really remember—“

“You said you wanted it to happen naturally. I said we ought to go have sex, and you said that it would be nice if things happened naturally. But I don’t really know what that means, Rose. I’d try to do it if I knew what it meant.”

Rose sighed. She rested her cheek against her knees and closed her eyes and was silent for so long that the Doctor decided she wasn’t going to answer him.

“It’d jus’…be nice,” she said, finally, softly.

The Doctor looked back over at her. Her eyes were still closed, and her tone was wistful.

“I’ve never had a time where…I mean, with the candlelight and the…It’s just never been like that for me. Y’know?”

He didn’t know. He regarded her for a second in silence. He didn’t really want to upset her again by asking more clarifying questions but he didn’t know what else to do. He rolled off the bench and went to sit next to her. “Like what?”

She shifted, resting her head against his shoulder. “I dunno. Doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” He turned his head, to brush a kiss over her hair. “Tell me.”

“I just always thought…like in books and movies…with rose petals on the bed and a string quartet and everyone’s all dressed in special formalwear…”

“Everyone?” he echoed. “How many people are involved in this scenario of yours?”

She exhaled slowly. “Just us. Just the two of us.”

“The two of us, and rose petals and a string quartet and formalwear. Sounds lovely.”

She lifted her head so she could look down at him. “And candlelight,” she reminded him. “And maybe some champagne. It would be nice.”

He cupped her cheek with his hand. “And then things would happen naturally?”

She shook her head a bit. “It doesn’t have to—“

“But it does. It absolutely does. This is so important,” he said, earnestly. “I’m glad you told me.” He leaned up to kiss the tip of her nose.

“You don’t have to—“

“Of course I do. It’s what you want. What you always wanted. I’d give you everything you want, you know. Every star in the sky.”

She traced her fingers over his lips. “That’s what you’ve given me, yes,” she whispered.

He kissed the pad of her index finger, and she made a small, breath-catchy sound. “I don’t suppose things happen naturally in prison cells, do they?”

“They might. Very uncomfortably.”

“Why uncomfortable?”

“This floor’s concrete.”

“Yes, but I’m not,” he pointed out.

“You’re not.” She moved abruptly, straddling him with a minimum of flailing limbs. “Mmm, but you are hard,” she murmured, leaning down to pull his bottom lip into her mouth.

“But that’s the right kind of hard, isn’t it?” he mumbled, into her mouth.

She rocked slowly against him, and they both gasped in appreciation. “Oh, it’s perfect,” she sighed, her hands in his hair as he nipped his way down her neck and she threw her head back to grant him access.

“I very much want to have sex with you, Rose Tyler,” he said against her skin.

“I can tell,” she rejoined, breathlessly, and then, “Yes,” as his hand found her breast under her shirt.

“Yes?”

“Yes—”

The prison door flew open, and someone said they would be free to go if one of them would fill out the paperwork, and the Doctor wanted to tell them to come back much, much later, but he didn’t know if they would if he told them that, and the paperwork took hours to fill out, and by the time they trudged back to the TARDIS Rose was so exhausted she went immediately to bed without any sex and the moment had been lost.

********

He didn’t tell her he was taking her on a special trip. He wanted it to be utterly a surprise. And she was surprised. A day of pampering, just for her, and Rose relaxed into alien waters, soothed and massaged by alien appendages, breathing in relaxing alien scents, and thought how she had seldom enjoyed a day so very indulgent.

“You can spend as long as you like in the bath, miss,” the alien attendant told her, and Rose hmm’d her understanding, unwilling to open her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed. She was seldom relaxed, now that she and the Doctor were playing this avoidance game with the sex question. He constantly had her keyed into a tension that he himself seemed completely oblivious of.

“When you’re ready, you can choose a dress.”

“Hmm,” she said again, and then, as she slowly processed the words, “Choose a dress?” No one answered. She opened her eyes. She was alone in the marble room, but now she was too curious to be relaxed. She pulled herself out of the bath and knotted the fluffy bathrobe around her, before padding out into the adjoining antechamber. A variety of sleek evening gowns had been set out for her, dangling from hangers around the room. Rose regarded them, and then walked to the antechamber’s door and poked her head out. “Excuse me,” she said, to the alien attendant waiting there, politely. “I’m going to need a few more items. Is that possible?”

It was some time later before Rose left the antechamber. The alien attendant gave her a room number and a key and bade her on her way with a smile. Rose took the moving spiral staircase with her stomach tied in a nervous knot of warm anticipation, her heart thudding in her chest. She had chosen the simplest of the dresses, a black satin sheath that skimmed to the floor and had a neckline just plunging enough. She had not done her hair elaborately. Somehow she thought that the Doctor would most appreciate it if she just looked like her, now that she’d made him go to all this trouble.

The room was empty when she walked in, but there was music. Something that sounded like a string quartet but wasn’t quite. The room was flooded with flickering candles, and the bed was fluttered over with rose petals, and there was a bottle of champagne by the bed. Rose stood, staring at her fantasy tableau and feeling ridiculously close to tears.

“You,” he said, from behind her, “took bloody forever.”

She turned. He was clad in a tuxedo and black Chucks, and was leaning up against a doorway she hadn’t noticed, which led to another room. Possibly the bathroom, she thought. He had his legs crossed at his ankles, and his arms crossed, and he tipped a smirk her way, looking so impossibly sexy that she wondered that she hadn’t yet just torn his clothes off of him. “You’re…” She trailed off.

“Yes?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She went with the most innocuous thing she could think of. “What’s the music?”

“Oh.” He looked pleased. “It’s nice, isn’t it? The acoustics in this place are astonishing. They’re playing next door, just for you. Not really a string quartet, but, wellllll, close enough.”

“Oh,” she said. Then, “ _Oh_. If we can hear them, can they—”

“No. It doesn’t work like that. We can only hear them because they’re branding their sound waves with a special—But you don’t want to hear about that right now, do you?”

“Not really.”

“You look beautiful,” he said, running his eyes up and down her figure.

“For a human?”

“No, for…For anything. For everything. So…very beautiful.” He met her eyes again, his eyes suddenly very dark and very focused. “What’s next in your natural progression of things, Rose?”

She reached behind her, for the zipper of her dress, and rasped it down slowly. The dress pooled at her feet. The Doctor regarded the lingerie she had chosen: black lace, with pale pink bows and sheer black stockings.

“I didn’t know what you’d like,” she told him, anxiously.

He crossed the room, slowly and deliberately, shrugging out of his coat, untying his tie, until he reached her, and then he placed his hands on her waist. “You,” he told her, hoarsely. “I like you.”

The kiss he gave her started gentle, and then moved toward intensity, until she was gasping when he pulled back. He tipped his head to look over her shoulder, watching his hands as they struggled with the clasp of her bra. “There!” he exclaimed, triumphantly, as it gave way, and then he dropped abruptly to his knees, reaching up to suckle delicately at a nipple. She closed her hands into his hair.

He moved to the next nipple. “Tell me if I do something wrong,” he said, thickly, blowing on the nipple to watch it tighten even harder.

Rose, struggling to remain upright, managed, “Oh, no, you’re doing everything very, very right.”

“Good.” He mumbled the words into the path he was kissing down her abdomen. “Very, very good…” His fingers played with the fastenings of her stockings, and he smiled into her navel. “These are delightful,” he purred. His fingers moved upward, tracing now the border of her knickers. Rose breathed unsteadily, eyes closed, and focused on him. “Everything about you is delightful.” He hooked his thumb into the waistband of her knickers and tugged on it, sliding them downward, off her. She opened her eyes, to find him studying her quite frankly.

She looked down herself, suddenly wondering if he’d expected her to have completely different equipment down there. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes,” he said, musingly. “We should have let this happen naturally ages ago.” He reached forward, and she parted her legs for him without thinking, anxious for him to touch her. His hand skimmed over her, a finger dipped into her, and she gave a small cry and arched toward him, tightening around him reflexively. “Ah,” he said. “This, if I remember correctly, is good, yes?”

“Another,” she gasped.

“What?”

“Another. More.”

She felt him slide another finger into her, and she arched again.

“That?” he rasped out.

“Yes,” she hissed, between her teeth, and then the bastard’s hand completely disappeared. Rose reached for it reflexively, to pull it back against her.

He dodged her. “This is a precarious position,” he said, and she wondered why he was still using big words, as he nudged her gently onto the bed. She grabbed at his head on the way down, pulling him down with her for a kiss. His fingers, wet from being inside her, drew a circle around her nipple. She arched against him, against the scratch of the fabric of the tuxedo he was still mostly wearing. He broke the kiss and sucked on her earlobe.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.

“You. Inside me.” She felt his fingers skim over her again, dip back inside her. “Oh, yes. Like that.”

“Shall I tell you what I want?” He whispered kisses over her cheekbone. “Because I think I want…” She almost sobbed as his hand disappeared again. “I very much think I want…” His mouth replaced his hand, and Rose sobbed again, this time from the jolt of pleasure that twitched through her. “To do this,” he said against her.

Her hips bucked off the bed as he licked at her languorously.

“Oh, yes,” he said, satisfied, humming the words against her. “This is quite excellent.”

“Oh,” rejoined Rose, eloquently. “ _Oh_.”

“More of this?” he asked.

“More. Yes. More. _Yes_. Don’t. Stop.” Her entire body pitched toward him, toward the pinpoint of her Doctor’s clever tongue pressing against her, coaxing at every nerve in her body until he pulled the trigger and rocketed her into a climax, his name a shout on her lips.

She collapsed into the mattress, feeling now the flower petals sticking to the sweat on her skin, not that she could be bothered to care about such a thing. She couldn’t even find enough energy to open her eyes to look at him. She just felt him move up her body and collapse next to her.

“I did that well,” he said, smugly. “Instinct. I have bloody good instincts about sex. Who knew?”

Rose was not sure his instincts were entirely perfect when it came to sex. Rose had also just experienced the most stunning orgasm of her life, so she wasn’t going to berate him just then.

There was silence. For a while.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he ventured, finally. “For, you know, me.”

Rose, who had been waiting to see if he would say something, smiled and rolled toward him. “Oh, I’m ready,” she assured him, and reached for the braces to push them off on his shoulders. “I need you out of these trousers.”

“Fantastic plan,” he said, breathlessly. “ _Molto bene_.”

She smiled again, as she undid the fastenings of his trousers and cupped him through the pants he was wearing. “How’s it work for you, then?”

“What do you mean?” he bit out.

She looked up at him. He already had his eyes closed and looked as if he were clinging to his self-control. It occurred to her for the first time that maybe he _had_ been thinking about sex with her as much as she’d been thinking about sex with him. “I’ve never had sex with a Time Lord before, so a few pointers would be nice.” She traced him through his pants. He pressed against her hand, seeking more pressure.

“It’s just like a human,” he managed, and then added, “I think.”

“Let’s see here,” she said, bracing herself for a moment. But, well, whatever it was that awaited her, it was the _Doctor_ , and that would make it okay.

She pushed his pants off him, carefully, and then sat for a second staring down at what she’d revealed. “Huh,” she commented.

The Doctor forced his eyes open, looking down at her. “What?”

“You’re right. It’s exactly like a human. I thought it’d be…”

“You thought it’d be what?” the Doctor demanded, anxiously, looking at the body part in question. “Isn’t it fine? I thought it was fine. Better than fine, actually. Isn’t it?”

“I just thought it’d be…” She reached out and traced a finger along it, and the Doctor hissed her name and balled his hands into the sheets. “Ah, perfect,” she said. “It really is perfect.” She leaned her head down, taking him in her mouth, the astonishing taste and feel of her Doctor, and she was going to just tease him, just a little bit, when the world suddenly moved.

It would have been one thing for the planet to move while he had been hard at work on _her_ , it was quite another thing to feel her center of gravity get thrown off just as she was about to start her role. She would have tried to ignore it, except that the bed pitched so suddenly she almost tumbled off it. The Doctor had to reach to grab her arm, as the entire room shuddered around them again.

“What…?” she asked, in bewilderment.

“Oh, _no_ ,” he groaned.

“What?” she asked.

“We have to get out of here.” He struggled off the unsteady bed, staggered across the rolling floor toward the door.

“Not like _this_ ,” she protested, making a dive for her dress, which was rippling across the floor from her. “What is going _on_?”

“It’s rather like an earthquake.” The Doctor, hanging grimly onto the doorknob, turned back to her. “The equivalent, on this planet. They have a very, very bad one here. A very bad one. We need to get out of here.”

“You took me to have sex on a planet whose entire civilization is about to _end_?” demanded Rose, disbelievingly, trying to step into her dress.

“Rose, honestly, leave the dress, hurry up—”

The floor gave way between them, suddenly. The string quartet had stopped, and she could hear screams pressing in around them, through the hole in the floor. Rose suddenly realized that the Doctor was genuinely worried. Out of her haze of pleasure, she recognized that they seemed to be in real danger. Eyes wide, she looked across the gaping hole at the Doctor.

“You’ve got to get across,” he begged.

She looked wildly around her, but she was trapped between the gaping hole in the floor and the window to the room, which was very high up indeed. “How?”

“Skirt around the edges. Slowly. _Carefully_ ,” he admonished, lunging out so his hand was extended as far as it could be, as she began edging her way around the gaping hole. The floor had given way clean through, so she could look down to the lobby far below them. It was dizzying. “Look at me, Rose,” he said, urgently. “Look at me.”

She did, focusing on his eyes.

“That’s it,” he said, under his breath, more to himself than her, as she edged closer to him. “That’s it. Just a bit more. That’s it.”

The room pitched again. Rose made a wild leap for the Doctor’s hand, caught it. It closed firmly around hers, holding her as she fell into the hole, as her legs swung wildly for purchase. Her eyes sought out the Doctor’s again, as he, breathing heavily, pulled her up and onto the solid floor with him. Relieved, she just wanted to collapse against him, but he turned with her immediately, yanking open the door and, hand in hers, running.

There were gaping holes in the floor everywhere. Panicked guests were everywhere. The Doctor, in just his tuxedo shirt, attracted little attention in the midst of the chaos. Rose, her dress nearly falling off her, stumbled in his wake, avoiding the holes. The spiral staircase had stopped moving. Guests were dashing down it, some shouting for people who had been lost in the hullabaloo. The building kept rocking about. Once or twice someone was thrown over the staircase’s railing.

They finally made it to the lobby, and Rose became aware the Doctor was shouting. “Out! Out! Everybody get out! To the street! Hurry!” Rose took up his chorus. It was growing difficult to breathe, because the air was filling with dust and debris. Whole chunks of the building were now plummeting down, and the Doctor was darting them through the confusion.

They broke suddenly through onto the street, but the Doctor did not slow down. It was worse outside, where it was more crowded. “Out of the city!” the Doctor was shouting now. “Everyone needs to get out of the city. Out of the—”

From behind them, there was a terrible splintering sound. The Doctor swore and clambered over a wave in the road in front of them, turning to her. “ _Run_ ,” he pleaded, and she picked up her pace, dashing with him.

The splintering continued, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to watch the entire hotel sway and begin to tumble. The Doctor glanced back as well, still urging them on faster, faster. He was wending his way through the streets now, toward where they had left the TARDIS. Buildings were crashing in their wake like dominoes, adding to the rumbling of the ground beneath their feet, and the Doctor and she had to climb over a pile of rocks that had made the street impassable.

The ground stopped moving as suddenly as it had started, leaving a tremendous silence in its wake that shouts and wails swelled to fill. The Doctor, waiting for her as she descended the rock pile, took her hand.

“Is it over?” she panted.

He whirled her suddenly against the nearest standing wall, his mouth crushed against her in a fierce, bruising kiss. His hands bunched at her gown, pulling the fabric up, and he buried himself inside her, without preamble. She cried out as he filled her and shifted, wrapping her legs around his waist, and he drove into her, and the climax rushed upon her and over her, drowning her in it, and he thrust harder in reaction until she felt him climax as well, with a gasp on her ear.

They were still for a long moment, breaths heaving together.

“Sorry,” he murmured, finally, kissing her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” she murmured back, lovingly, brushing her hands through his hair. “Don’t. We’re okay. We’re fine. See?” She hugged him reassuringly, and he hugged her back, tightly, before straightening.

She slid her feet to the ground, and he took her hand. “We should go help,” she said.

And, without another word, they went to help, doing what they did. The disaster had been terrible and heart-wrenching, and Rose wondered what it meant that the next stage of their relationship had been born in such circumstances. Then she decided it was appropriate: In the middle of the chaos of his life, she was going to make sure that she constantly surrounded him with love.

The second time he made love to her, it was slowly and lingeringly, although the climax was just as shattering, and she lay basking in afterglow and wondered, abruptly, “Should we have used something?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, affronted. “I’m not going to give you any weird alien diseases, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But what about a baby? Should we use some kind of birth control?”

“Oh, _that_ ,” replied the Doctor. “I wouldn’t worry your head about _that_ , we’re totally fine.”


End file.
